I apologize that it has taken me so long to recap my date with Man #24, but I felt I needed to give you the back story about how we got set up and how I was getting pressure from my friends for this to, not only be a good matchup, but to also provide good material for a romantic comedy. (Hence Man #24’s tag – The Leading Man.)

To be honest, I anticipated that The Leading Man and I would have a good date. The friends who set us up happen to be very intuitive about these kinds of things, and I usually trust their judgment. Like I said, however, I was extremely nervous. The last time I had seen Man #24 had been before I had gotten married, started feeling depressed and trapped, and started drowning myself in emotion-deadening amounts of food and red wine. Therefore, he was not going to see the thin, sexy woman to whom he had last spoken. He might not even recognize me.

Oh dear god.

When we set up our date, The Leading Man said he was willing to meet me somewhere near my neighborhood, and I appreciated this a lot. If you’ve been reading this blog for any length of time, you know I have strong feelings about the things guys can do to make themselves look considerate from the very beginning, and offering to meet a woman on her turf is just one of them. By this, Ladies, I do not mean meeting a man at your house. (Geez, that would be scary.) What I mean is, if a man lives a half an hour away, he should not expect a woman to drive out to see him sight unseen. I’m okay with meeting a man halfway between his place and mine, but it’s always appreciated if he will make the extra effort to allow me to stay in neighborhoods in which I feel comfortable.

Sorry, guys. Maybe this doesn’t seem fair. But, your gender isn’t the one getting raped every 60 seconds in this country, so I don’t want to hear any whining and this is not something on which I’m willing to compromise.

Anyway, sorry for that tangent/soap box moment, but I just wanted to say how pleased I was that The Leading Man was willing to let me pick our rendezvous point without any pressure.

He mentioned that he was hungry for Thai food, and I was trying to think of a good Thai restaurant that had the right “first date” vibe somewhere in the U District. Unfortunately, there is a plethora of Thai restaurants in the area, but none of them have the kind of ambience I thought was comfortable for a first date/two people catching up after a long time kind of date. Most of them have these little, vinyl kitchen chairs to sit on, and I felt we really needed a booth. After himming and hahhing for a couple of seconds, I asked him if he would be willing to forego Thai in exchange for meeting at Schultzy’s instead. (Yes, I realize this is my third date in 24 that has been at Schultzy’s.)

He went for it, but then I felt bad for bulldozing his Thai food desires.

Although he said it was fine, I was conscious of what I had just done and felt I was not off on a good foot.

On the night of the date, I put on some dark-washed jeans, a brown top with three-quarter length sleeves, cute leopard spotted shoes, turquoise, brown, and gold necklace and bracelet, and gold earrings and headed out the door. Again, if you’ve been reading from the beginning, you may have noticed that I’m less anxious about sucking everything in these days. LONG gone are the Spanx! I still care about my appearance, but I am no longer willing to wrestle with compressive undergarments when I am out on a date.

The Leading Man and I met and talked for a few hours over beers and fries about everything from our friends and their crazy ideas to dogs to the legalization of marijuana to Ken Griffey Jr and beyond. The conversation was really fun and easy and I enjoyed it a lot.

At the end of the date, The Leading Man walked me to my car, gave me a kiss on the cheek and a hug and said we should definitely go out again. I said, “Well, next Saturday I’m invited to a party where everyone who comes has to perform a talent. You’re welcome to join me.”

Like this:

So, in the romantic comedy that is my life, I anxiously awaited my date with Man #24. I remembered the last time I saw him. We had both been at a party at our friends’ house. It was summer and I remember what I had worn and what he looked like. I was in a turquoise linen skirt that I had purchased in Italy and a wrap-front halter top that probably showed a bit too much cleavage, and he had been in a light-colored pair of pants and white shirt and had his hair in a long ponytail. It was 2006, before my emotionally turbulent relationship with STBex, and I was about 80 pounds lighter than I am today.

This last fact had me extraordinarily nervous to meet him again. I’m sure that’s the me he remembered, and I dreaded the thought of the first moment when he saw me again. What would he think? Various scenarios and self-critical thoughts went through my head. I really didn’t feel like being rejected again because of my weight.

I talked to my friend again, and ask her what she thought he might think about how much weight I’ve gained.

“His weight’s gone up and down too. He doesn’t seem like someone who judges people like that.”

This didn’t really bring me any comfort. Anyone who has done any online dating at all can tell you that even the fattest guys on Match.com still want a woman who is “athletic and toned.” I went into a brief period of self-loathing and grief, mourning the woman I used to be, the sexy one in the halter top and skirt.

Perhaps as a way to put my guard up, I said, “You know, I’m not usually into guys with ponytails.” (The only exception had been a Mexican tamale with a ponytail like Antonio Banderas in Desperado, and even that had been short-lived…but yummy.)

“Oh, he doesn’t have the ponytail anymore.”

“Oh that’s good.”

“Well, our phone conversation went really well, so I’m looking forward to our date,” I said. Secretly, I was thinking it was SO much easier to stay fat and introverted instead of going out to meet someone who had seen me in my former hotness.

But I did it. I screwed up my courage, put my big girl panties on (really big), and went to meet him at Schultzy’s in the U District.

It’s been a while since I posted a weigh in, and this one’s not going to be pretty. I’m totally pissed at myself and frustrated. Back in summer and fall, I was slowly losing weight, a pound here, a pound there. The last weight I posted here on my blog in August was 242 pounds.

Then I started making trips out to Eastern Washington.

You know how when the oxygen masks fall down from the ceiling of an airplane, they tell you to put the mask on yourself before helping anyone else? Well, apparently, I am not good at taking care of myself when I’m taking care of someone else.

Being in Eastern Washington meant that I left my personal trainer behind and missed my workouts. Shuffling around the block with my uncle was NOT the same as hitting the gym. Finally, it seemed like all we did when we weren’t taking care of my uncle was EAT!

First of all, on my trips over, I developed a bad habit for hitting the Dairy Queen in Yakima. Then, when my uncle was in the hospice facility, I would skip breakfast at the house so I could get to him earlier in the morning and would opt for a trip through the Starbuck’s drive-through instead. Although the daily coffee Frappacino and spinach feta wrap helped me finally earn my gold card, they were disasterous to my waistline. Finally, my aunt is a big believer in dessert after every meal, and I am horrible at saying no to dessert. Just horrible.

Well, let’s just say I’m paying for it now. I weighed myself and I am ashamed to say I am a hefty 252. My heaviest weight ever! It makes me want to cry.

Time to start over.

My alarm is set for 5:45 a.m.. My gym bag is packed. I have a date with my trainer tomorrow morning.

Like this:

Believe it or not, on one of my trips back to Seattle about a month ago, I managed to take time out from school and work to have a date, two dates as a matter of fact. (Which is why my dear readers will be getting the recap in installments.)

I know! And you thought this dating blog had gone completely sideways, never to right its course.

Man #23 found me on Match.com. He sent a wink and then an email and thus started our volley of communication. I looked up his profile and discovered that he lived in the Portland area. Normally, I ignore winks and emails sent to me by men from other cities, but I decided that Portland might be close enough to see what this guy was about.

He was going to be in town over the weekend, and wanted to know if I would meet him for coffee. We had left the actual meeting time up in the air during the day, because I was busy with something I was doing with my kids. I told him I would send him a text message when I was free, and if he could still meet, I’d be open to it.

So, that’s what I did. I quickly received a response that said, “I can meet you in ten minutes.”

Oh shit. What if I wanted to change clothes or at least run a comb through my hair? I quickly changed my clothes, jeans, brown shirt, turquoise and brown necklace and bracelet, earrings, and leapord ballet flats, and I was out the door. I ended up feeling as though I would be late, so imagine my surprise when I arrived at our rendevous point and did not find him there.

We agreed to meet at one of the largest Starbucks stores in Seattle. Big mistake. The place is always completely packed. I walked in and didn’t see anyone looking remotely like my date’s picture. I sent him a text, “Walking into SBUX now. Are you here?”

No answer.

I started to feel self concsious. Since I didn’t receive a response, I started to think that maybe he was there, saw me walk in, and decided he didn’t want to meet me. I decided to play it cool and get in line for a coffee. I ordered a skinny peppermint mocha, tried to nonchalantly look around while I waited for my order, and then, tried desparately to find an open seat once I had my hot little drink in my hot little hands. I managed to find an open chair where I had a clear shot of the door.

Ten minutes. No answer.

Sipping slowly.

Twenty minutes. No answer. I scrolled back through my text messages to see when he had sent the “I’ll be there in 10 minutes” text. It had been forty minutes.

I ran out of sips. My drink was gone, and I was well past my fifteen minute threshold for tardiness. I got up, threw my cup away and headed outside. For whatever reason, I decided to send him another text, “Leaving now. Let me know if you still want to meet.”

I had only walked a few stores away and was looking at shoes when he called me. He had gotten lost and had just received my text message from earlier. I let him know that I was in a store about a block away, and if he started to walk in my direction, I would meet him halfway.

I started walking and this time found him. He was about my height, 5′-10″ ish, dark brown eyes, olive skin like I like, and jet black hair so thick it almost stood on end. He explained that he had gotten lost and asked if I was upset. I assured him that I wasn’t upset. (Secretly, I realized that these things don’t upset me much anymore. I just leave. After 22 other dates and 77 more to go, I seem to be taking the “men are like buses” stance on being stood up, knowing that, good or bad, there will be another man along shortly.)

We agreed that the crowded Starbucks setting seemed suboptimal and opted for having a relaxed conversation while strolling slowly past storefronts. It felt very Italian passeggiatta-like.

Like me, he was a little thick around the middle. The time I’ve spent in Eastern Washington has managed to undo all of the hard work I’ve done with my personal trainer, and I feel just as chubby as ever, although arguably stronger. Like me, an injury had hindered Man #23’s ability to work out over the past couple of years. It turned out that before his injury, he had run marathons, and before my injury, I had cheated death on 2nd Avenue by riding my bike to work. A couple of years ago, I took a header on Lake Washington Boulevard, which left me unable to lift or turn my head for over a week, and even after four months in physical therapy, I’ve never been quite the same again.

From blown out calf muscles, his from running, mine from dodgeball, we both suffered occasional plantar fasciitis.

Quite the pair, wouldn’t you say?

In a way, I think I felt I had found a kindred spirit. Both of us had been much thinner before, and could sympathize with the effects that injuries had had on our bodies. We had a good conversation, although at times, it felt as though Man #23 was interviewing me. I wasn’t afraid to call him on it, and he confessed it was probably a side effect of his work. I tried harder to ask him more questions, and discovered enough to know that I wouldn’t mind going out with him a second time…

…And, El Jefe decided to stay in town an extra day to take me out again.

Like this:

Weight Loss Weigh-in Wednesdays are going through a bit of an overhaul. After some feedback from readers, it is apparent that they want me to do more dating and less reflecting on my weight loss efforts. I have decided I will not write about my efforts at the gym every single week. This is a DATING blog after all. Although getting back to my dating weight is important due to the inverse relationship between my weight and the number of men who will want to date me, it is merely an additional step, along with many others I am taking this year, in my journey to renew, rediscover, and reinvent myself.

That said, here are my thoughts regarding the status of my workouts.

I remain committed in spite of the fact that my weight loss seems excruciatingly slow. I’m still getting out of bed at the crack of dawn so I can get to Experience Fitness, get my workout in, shower and change at the gym, and rush off to work. The results, although slow, are becoming more and more apparent to me. I can walk longer and faster than I could a few months ago. I’m lifting heavier and heavier weights. My balance is improving.

Oh, and I’m not whining quite so much as I was in the beginning.

The truth is; I probably have not been the easiest client to train. When I started, my bad knees limited what I could do. I had a bicycle accident that wiped out my left knee and a snowboarding accident that damaged my right. My personal trainer, Zach has spent a lot of our time together having me do exercises that will help me stabilize me knees, and now I am finally getting strong enough to move on to heavier leg work. Hopefully, now that I’m doing more leg work it will help increase my metabolism and help with the weight loss.

Then there’s the work to strengthen my abs. Zach, knows that I hate all exercises done on the stability ball. Every time he rolls that thing out, I just know he’s trying to piss me off. He claims he’s trying to help me strengthen my core, but I feel like he’s just trying to torture me.

So this week, he’s been away from Experience Fitness, and I’ve had a substitute trainer. Before he left, Zach wrote out my workouts, and guess what? There were plenty of stability ball exercises. Besides the fact that any exercise done on a stability ball feels twice as hard as the same exercise done on a stable object, like a weight bench, one of the other reasons I hate the ball is because there is no graceful way to get on and off of one.

Ok, so the sit-up with medicine ball reach that I had to do this morning was not so bad. The reverse hyper-extensions, however, are a whole different matter. For the hypers, you have to lie on the ball on your stomach, and then raise and lower your legs. If you’re tall and overweight, like I am, getting down to place your stomach on the ball can be a bit of a challenge. Picture a belly flop with control.

Think about that for a second.

I always feel bad when my stomach hits the ball and it gives a little bounce. The other option, which I prefer when I am already on the floor, transitioning from the mat to the ball, is to kneel on my knees, place my upper body on the ball, and roll forward. This seems better in some way, but it still feels awkward.

Finally, there is the execution of the hyper-extension exercise itself. It was not so bad when Zach was having me do this with my legs together and straight. I felt sort of like a dolphin swimming. Now, however, to make things more difficult, he wants me to lift my legs up and out to the sides. Seriously? In public??? Are you fucking kidding me?

I just keep telling myself that someday, SOMEDAY, I’m going to have the nicest, most toned ass you have ever seen.

But my lewd behavior does not stop there. Oh no.

The next exercise I had to do today was something called hamstring 3’s. These were again done with the stability ball. With the hamstring 3’s, I have to lie on my back on a mat, place my feet on the ball and lift my pelvis off of the mat. Next, I have to roll the ball in to bend my knees and pulse my pelvis in the air 10 times. Then, straighten my legs, lift my pelvis, and pulse for a count of ten, and finally, the piece de resistance, with my feet still on the ball, lift my pelvis off of the mat and roll the ball in and out by bending and straightening my legs ten more times.

Nothing with this much pelvis thrusting should be this difficult!

Finally, remember a couple of weekends ago when I went to see “In the Next Room – The Vibrator Play” with my girlfriends? Well, today, a friend of mine informed me that this story is also a fancy pants British period drama. (I need to go see this one too even though I know how it ends!) As you may recall, from my previous post, back in Victorian times, vibrators were used to cure “female hysteria” which encompassed a wide variety of symptoms…

Now, I don’t know if I’m hysterical or not, but I do know a cure for what ails me, and, with all of the exercises I’ve been doing at the gym, when I finally start dating a man with whom I’m interested in having sex…

I lost a pound this week. 242. Woo hoo! Celebrate my little success with me, please. A round of meal replacement shakes for everyone!!

Cheers!

This is slow going. There’s no “Biggest Loser” excitement here, no gimmicks, no 12 pound per week losses, but I am sticking with it, getting stronger and staying focused. You should see my biceps. Arm wrestling anyone?

I don’t think I would feel right now if I didn’t get my workouts in during the week. Zach and the staff at Experience Fitness have definitely become part of my routine.

I also had a blogging first this week.

On Monday, when I was at Experience Fitness for my personal training session, I was standing at the front counter after my workout, filling out my cardio log, and talking to Zach. A young woman approached me from the side, and hesitantly said, “Oh, my god, are you the blogger?”

“Yeah.”

“I found your blog through the gym’s website, and it is so good. I’m supposed to be working and I’m reading your blog instead. It’s so good. You’re famous.”

She was sort of gushing and I was sort of blushing.

“Thank you,” I said smiling. My friends have told me they enjoy my writing and I’ve had comments here on the blog, but this was the first time a complete stranger approached me and told me they were enjoying my stories. It was pretty flattering, although it totally caught me off-guard.

The woman introduced herself and we spoke briefly about the blog. She said she recalled from the blog that I was working out in the mornings with Zach, but she seemed surprised to actually see me there. It was really cool to feel the energy of someone who was so enthusiastic about my writing. Zach briefly got caught up in the dialogue too.

“Zach is going to be famous too,” I said, trying to divert some of the attention away from myself, “you know, he and Thor are the only individuals where I use their real names.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Zach said as he was walking away. I think he was blushing too. (I had asked him when we started training for permission to use his real name. So, don’t worry; he knows he’s part of a blog.)

As I walked home I wondered if I had seemed friendly and open. I hoped so. You never know how your responses will sound to a stranger when you’re caught off guard like that. Then I started thinking, most of the time I’m so sarcastic in this blog, why would anyone expect me to be nice???

But, I AM nice. I really am. And, I hope I’m perceived that way (at least most of the time.)

Coming soon: Apricots and Misdemeanors, and Man #19, Thor’s Buddy.

Also, My Dating Prescription now has its own Facebook page. Go LIKE it, please, and share it with your friends.

I figure I need to get back in this blogging game at some point, and I want to keep certain things consistent around here. Plus, Weight Loss Weigh-in Wednesday just seems to sound so much better than Fighting My Fat Friday.

That would get your attention though, wouldn’t it?

Sad to say, there has been no weight lost on this weigh-in Wednesday. The stress of the past two weeks may have something to do with it. (Plus the fact that my aunt seems to have an afternoon ice cream habit and she likes to have an accomplice.)

I can proudly say, however, that while I was in Eastern Washington, I went for a hike 6 out of the 8 days that I was there. Hiking in Eastern Washington is definitely different from hiking in Western Washington. I’m used to the sheltering canopies of conifers and moisture, not sand dunes. I made sure I was up and out by 7 a.m. everyday in hopes of getting my hike in and getting back to my aunt and uncle’s air-conditioned digs before the heat really kicked in. Plus, instead of worrying about cougars and bears, I had to watch out for coyotes and rattlesnakes. Luckily, all I saw was a jack rabbit, coyote poo, some quail, and LOTS and LOTS of sage brush.

I started my personal training with Zach back up this week. It was good to get back in the gym, and now he’s switching things up on me a little. We’re moving from exercises that emphasis strength and balance to exercises that will be faster and provide a more cardiovascular emphasis. For example, he made me do mountain climbers today, which seemed to make every ounce of fat on my body jiggle. Also, instead of regular shoulder presses, he gave me a lighter weight and had me press them alternately and faster. He also threw a new core exercise at me, which I hate. I know it will be good for me, but ab exercises are the worst. It could have something to do with the fact that most of the weight I carry now seems to be in my stomach and my ass.

Zach always demonstrates the exercises for me before I have to do them. So, this morning, he got down on the mat and showed me how I was supposed to sit up on my butt, feet raised, torso raised, medicine ball in hands, and take the ball from side to side twenty times while keeping my feet and torso up.

“Oh, this is going to suck,” I said.

He dropped his head, smiled, and laughed, and said, “You can’t hate every exercise.”

“No just the hard ones.”

You would think that, at some point, one’s ass could become large enough to provide a nice stable base, like a blob of Silly Putty slapped down on a table to make the bottom flat, but no such luck. My ass was not stable at all, but somehow, I managed to do three sets. It wasn’t pretty though, let me tell you. There were some pretty unattractive grunting sounds coming out of me. I didn’t let any “f” bombs fly though; it was too early in the morning for that.

One of my friends stopped by to buy fresh eggs this morning, (my chicken’s eggs, not mine,) and commented on how toned my arms are getting. I briefly gave him a gun show. The weight loss may be slow, but I’m still seeing things get redistributed. I’ll discuss back fat versus lats at a later time.

Anyway, I’m back at it. I have a couple more posts in the hopper and will try to work on them this weekend.

By the way, one of my subscribers asked me last time I posted about my weight loss whether the toes in the picture above were mine. For the record, these are not my toes. Judging from their appearance, I would say these are the toes of a man. Don’t ask me how I know, I just feel like I know. You know?? In case you are wondering, my feet are, unlike the rest of me, relatively slender; my toes are painted; and, I have a toe ring.

Have a great weekend! It looks like Julember in Seattle may finally be over.